


an Unexpected Ending to the night

by electronic_elevator



Category: Original Work
Genre: Blackrom, F/M, Kismesissitude, Mildly Dubious Consent, Omorashi, Sex, implied plot, lowkey tho
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-23
Updated: 2019-05-23
Packaged: 2020-03-13 07:21:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,808
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18936127
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/electronic_elevator/pseuds/electronic_elevator
Summary: A mysterious asshole (secretly a time traveler) came all the way here to argue with him (a philosopher) and maybe do some other, less savory things while they're at it.Both characters are unnamed. Traveler uses she/her, philosopher uses he/him. Not particularly historically faithful; no philosophical discussions included. Written January 2018.





	an Unexpected Ending to the night

A fiery light blazed in her blue eyes, mere inches from his after a rebuttal-turned-rant. His lip was curled in almost a snarl, and he inhaled sharply, preparing to retort to her inane ideas when he instead very suddenly leaned forward, pressing his lips on hers.  
  
He heard her make a sound, a defiant, teasing sound like a “hah!” so he broke the kiss.  
  
“I knew it,” she said. “You’re attracted to me.”  
  
He looked at her darkly. He was, but like, she didn’t need to know that. Although, his impulsiveness had gotten him into a trap. Lying would be blatantly obvious and saying he did it for some other reason would just imply—  
  
“Or, you just can’t think of anything to prod my argument with.”  
  
“Now look here —“ he started, but then she was sitting on his lap, facing him, the skirt of her dress hiked up to allow this, and his body was trying its best to convince him that the discussion was really very unimportant compared with other things.  
  
“To think, we were having such a good debate. Then you had to go and kiss me.” Then she kissed him, deeply, and the thoughts he’d been drawing together dissipated altogether.  
  
She had her hands on the sides of his face, holding him into the kiss so he couldn’t reply even if he’d had something to say, and he put his on her upper hips, drawing her closer to him. She drew his lower lip into her mouth and bit it, causing him to moan lightly, stifling it as soon as he could. She took this as an indication to bite harder, and he cried out in slight pain, pulling back. She had a horrible grin on her face and he blushed, diving back in to retaliate.  
  
She didn’t yelp, much to his annoyance, so he bit harder, and got only a gasp as a metallic taste accrued on his tongue.  
  
Startled, he pulled back. A semi-bloody string of spit strung them together, but when she laughed it broke.  
  
“That all you got…?” she teased as he wiped the spit from his chin. She didn’t even lick off the blood. “So… are we doing this?”  
  
It was a bad idea, for… a few reasons. “…And we’ll continue the discussion later?”  
  
“Of course, dear,” she promised, cupping his crotch and rubbing, lightly but with enough friction to be pleasurable.  
  
“Wait—“  
  
“What?”  
  
“…I need to excuse myself first, for a moment.”  
  
She snorted. “Why?”  
  
He was taken aback, and the way she was looking down at him made him feel like she knew something he didn’t. “Wh— wh— because I need to use the toilet?”  
  
“Interesting,” she said, moving her hand from his crotch to above his bladder, continuing to rub there. A feeling like alarm bells rose in his throat.  
  
“You—“ Before he could accuse her of perversion, she pressed, hard, and he gasped, embarrassingly, leaking a bit. It was visible on his light-colored pants even in the dim light of his house, and she was watching very closely. He felt himself blushing again and refused to meet her eyes. He’d been trying to convince her in the debate and best her in this escapade and if she was really intent on getting him to soil himself he’d have no chance.  
  
He felt her staring at him. “All that wine, those hours we’ve been talking? No wonder you need to go.”  
  
Again, she’d cornered him; he couldn’t say it wasn’t that bad.  
  
“You’re disgusting,” he said instead, not even surprised by now by this strange, strange girl.  
  
“You didn’t seem to think so when you kissed me,” she said, leaning in again, replacing her hand in such a way that she could rub circles into his bladder while stroking at his crotch. It was almost overwhelming — he very quickly found it was incredibly difficult to focus on keeping control of his bladder, trying to be dominant in the kiss, and keeping his hips appropriately still to hide how much he wanted her. After just a few seconds, she was doing most of the kissing and he was pressing your hips up for more friction, though this made the pressure on his bladder worse.  
  
“Does it feel good?” she whispered.  
  
He wanted to say yes. “It would feel better if you’d let me up for a moment,” he said, his breathy tone betraying him. “Do you want me to piss myself?”  
  
She shrugged, grinning maliciously. “No, that’s disgusting. I want you to hold it.”  
  
“No you don’t,” he accused. He thought it over, sluggishly. She wanted him to piss himself and she wanted them to fuck. He wanted to piss, then fuck. They both wanted to best the other. If he pissed himself and gave up this whole superiority quest, he’d at least get her. If he didn’t and managed to hold it as long as she was there, he’d win and probably still get her. He really doubted she was bluffing, but if he went willingly, she might pretend she was and torment him, and then he really couldn’t win.  
  
He made an irritated sound, yanked her closer to him, and began kissing along her neck. He was rewarded by a delighted sigh and after a few minutes, he felt her reach down and work to unfasten his pants. This didn’t feel like a “strip down and retreat to the bed” encounter, so when she’d helped him work his pants down, he helped her step out of her panties, leaving the rest of their clothes on.  
  
“You want me?” he asked, whispered into her ear.  
  
“Yes,” she breathed.  
  
“Oh really, what do you want me to do?” he asked, pressing his luck.  
  
“Fuck me,” she whined, and that was enough for him.  
  
He felt her intwining her fingers in his hair as he carefully got them into position, gently entering her, looking up at her face just in time to see her mouth drop open partially, her eyes unfocused.  
  
Encouraged, he began to move, and she moaned his name, which sent a shock directly to his crotch.  
  
After moving slowly for a few seconds, trying to get her used to him, she asked “harder,” and he was happy to oblige, forgetting about his need to piss.  
  
They sped up, their pants and whines and sighs increasing in frequency until she for one was vocalizing the whole time. After a few more minutes, he felt himself getting close, and he once more heard his name keen from her throat, high pitched and drawn out, and that was enough for him to cum, deep inside her with a final gasp. Her eyes went wide, almost concerned, but when he kissed her gently the look was gone. She laid to her side onto him in the chair, seeming tired.  
  
“God, that was good,” she confessed, and he felt pleased… until, as his body rapidly crossed out of the post-coitus haze to remind him how desperately he needed the toilet, she taunted, “And you didn’t even piss yourself,” breaking the mutuality of the moment.  
  
“I hate you,” he scoffed, squirming, but she made a skeptical noise. “Let me up.” He began refastening his pants, feeling it improper to stay exposed, even given the situation. Doing so put unintended pressure on his bladder and he bit back a whine, his toes curling against the feeling.  
  
“No way~” she said, showing no sign of becoming more convenient than a dead weight on his left side. And, now with his pants (agonizingly) fastened, he was about to stand, the girl be damned, but she noticed and put a hand lightly over his bladder. Threateningly. A low moan escaped him. He couldn’t hold it if she pressed down, and she’d press down if he tried standing up.  
  
“You want me to piss myself. You’re disgusting,” he snarled, higher pitched and breathier than normal.  
  
“You’re going to piss yourself. That’s disgusting,” she drawled, tracing circles on his stomach and running the fingers of her other hand along the side of his face.  
  
She knew it was critical because, though not even pressing, he whimpered and bit his lip, pushing back in the chair and gripping its armrests. She clucked her tongue in a patronizing way and his face got red. “I will say, I’m surprised you’re still holding it. I can see how bad you have to go and yet…” she trailed off, adding just the gentlest pressure, and he gasped, “please!”  
  
She grinned, predatory, increasing the pressure just a hair more. “Please what? Can you not hold it after all?”  
  
He’d lost control of his reactions, at least. He was making all sorts of tiny sounds, gasping, mewling, moaning. She knew he had mere seconds and was extremely pleased that he really was holding all the way to the end. “please let me piss,” he begged. “I can’t hold it I’ve gotta go so bad just let me piss myself.”  
  
“Oh, I didn’t know I was stopping you from that~” she said, not as belittling as she wanted to be because his words had gone straight to her clit, but she pressed down hard on his bladder and he immediately lost control, moaning high and loud as he pissed through his pants and through them onto her skirts. The relief made him go weak, unable to stop even if he’d wanted to; accepting the spreading wet warmth as it crept down his legs and dripped onto the floor, and soaking into the chair below him. In the moment he thought it might be better than his orgasm.  
  
This went on for the better part of two minutes, the only sounds in the room the spattering of his piss and their excited breathing.  
  
“I— I think I’m done,” he finally said, feeling rather embarrassed. She got off of him, carefully, stepping out of the zone of the puddle and regarding him, intensifying the feeling.  
  
“What?” he demanded, blushing.  
  
“I just — wish I had a camera. You’re one pretty picture.”  
  
“…What?”  
  
“How about I come back tomorrow and we can continue our discussion from earlier?”  
  
It was rather late, anyway. They probably would’ve needed to part ways soon had they not gotten… distracted. “…Okay.”  
  
“Not that I think you’ll have a good response to me, even by then.”  
  
“I hate you.”  
  
“Sure, sure. Totally; that’s why you let me make you piss yourself uncontrollably.”  
  
He stood sharply, angrily; but cringed when the disruption caused urine from his soaked seat to trickle down his legs. She laughed and he fumed, blushing; pointing to the door sharply. “Get OUT of my HOUSE!”  
  
She, unperturbed, finished laughing, but left quickly.  
  
“…I’ll see you tomorrow!!” he called as she rounded the door, before running his hand through his hair wondering how the hell he was going to clean his damn chair.


End file.
